


On the first day of Fallout Christmas, Vault-Tec gave to me...

by owlaholic68



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Fluff, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, Gen, Holiday prompts, Mild Language, Multi, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-10 23:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12922293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: 25 holiday prompts.





	1. prompts 1-5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1: When to decorate?   
> 2: Decorating the Highwayman  
> 3: Hung by the chimney with care  
> 4: Do you believe in Santa Claus?  
> 5: Decorating the tree

**Never too early-** Fallout: New Vegas

Lynn wakes up to an announcement over the Lucky 38’s speaker system. 

“Miss Lynn, would you please come up to the penthouse, if you don’t mind.” The too-cheery voice of Yes Man chirps. Lynn groans and rolls over. Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and the inhabitants of the suite had celebrated by overeating and playing card games into the early morning. 

“On my way,” she mumbles, and rolls out of bed to start looking for some clothing. 

Yes Man looks as he always does: happy. The penthouse looks at it always does: filled with boxes- wait. Lynn does a double take at the room. Large boxes and bins are piled high. A few Securitrons patiently wait beside the piles. 

“I hate to say it, Miss Lynn, but I’m confused. I thought I had control over all of the Lucky 38’s subsystems, but I apparently missed one! Oops!” Yes Man doesn’t sound to concerned about his loss of control. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. The Securitrons want some sort of authorization from me before proceeding, but I don’t want to accidentally set off some doomsday device or something! That would be bad! So would you mind taking a peek in some of these boxes to see what this hullabaloo is all about?” 

Lynn shrugs. “Whatever.” She pops the lid off one of the bins. She blinks in confusion at what she sees, then comes to an understanding and sighs. 

“What? What is it?” Yes Man asks. Lynn holds up a string of multi-colored lights and a mass of bright silver tinsel. 

“It’s Christmas decorations, for some reason. Normally, I don’t start decorating until the first of December. But House must have had the Securitrons decorate right after Thanksgiving.” She shrugs. “I guess we could just let them get started, though. A difference of one week won’t hurt.” 

“Wow! Christmas!” Yes Man says. “I’m so excited to learn all about this Christmas!” 

Lynn laughs. “I bet you’ll like it. It’s all about celebrating with your loved ones, and spreading happiness and joy.”

“Amazing! We’d better get started right away then!” Yes Man says, and a series of beeps emit from the monitor. 

~♪ Deck the halls with boughs of holly, ♪~ music starts loudly playing as all of the Securitrons jump to action. 

“Can you tell them to leave the stuff for the suite alone?” Lynn asks. “We’ll want to put all of that up ourselves. It’s a tradition.” 

“Whatever you say, Miss Lynn!” Yes Man replies. “Oh, I’m so excited for what the rest of this wonderful Christmas season will bring!”

* * *

**Decorating the Highwayman -** Fallout 2

Carla sits on the hood of the Highwayman and rubs her hands together, shivering slightly despite her heavy jacket. She scoots off the car and kneels next to the smoldering fire, poking it with a stick. They’re travelling through the mountains right now, and the temperature has dropped below normal post-apocalyptic California levels. 

The shifting embers crackle and Lenny, laying next to the fire, stirs and rubs his eyes. 

“Good morning, Len,” Carla says. 

He yawns and pulls his blanket closer. “Good mornin’, C-Carla. Do you- you think we’re going to g-get to Broken H-Hills today?” 

“Maybe, let’s hope so. Look at the clouds, it might snow.” She starts packing up their small campsite. “It’s the beginning of December already.” As Lenny starts to stand, she grins. “Hold on, Len. I’ve got a  _ surprise  _ for you!” 

He slowly smiles. From Carla, a surprise could be anything from ‘surprise, a deathclaw attacked us last night and I killed it and you didn’t even wake up’ to ‘surprise, I’m going to kiss you after saving you from almost getting killed by a Wanamingo’. 

She makes him close his eyes and carefully guides him to walk around the side of the car, then helps him sit in the passenger seat of the Highwayman. 

“Don’t peek!” She whispers, and closes his door. He hears her run over to the driver’s side door and get in, then the Highwayman starts with its characteristic rumble. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.” 

The first thing that he notices is the brightness. A few strings of colorful lights are strung up in front of him and along the sides. 

“I can’t believe I found a mostly intact string!” Carla chatters. “I had to fix a couple, but they look great! I plugged them into the Highwayman’s motor but it’s on a separate circuit, so we can have them on whenever we want!” 

The next thing Lenny notices is the tree. Of course, Carla didn’t fit a full-size christmas tree into the car. But a sturdy sapling no more than a foot tall sits on the dashboard, shiny tinsel twinkling and a few ornaments scattered on it. 

“H-How?” He says, amazed. “This- this is, C-Carla, this is  _ amazing! _ ” 

Carla feels her heart float at his excited grin. “We don’t have a real tree to decorate, since we won’t be staying anywhere for long, but this was the next best thing!” She rubs her neck. “We  _ might  _ have to turn the lights off sometimes so we don’t attract enemies, but it’s the best I could rig up!” 

Lenny laughs, the bright lights reflected in his pale eyes. “It’s w-wonderful!”

“One more thing,” she says, and holds up a finger. She gestures to the glove compartment. “Open it.” He does so and pulls out a small box. 

“Is- is this what I-I think it is?” He asks, sliding out a collection of holodisks. They have rough labels: “Blue Christmas”, “Santa Claus is back in town”, and “Let it snow”, among others. Lenny glances up at Carla before selecting one and sliding it into the Highwayman’s built-in holodisk reader. 

As the jingling tune starts playing, he smiles. “Best Christmas ever, C-Carla. Even- almost better than before.” 

~♪ I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know… ♪~

* * *

**Hung by the chimney with care -** Fallout: New Vegas

“Dearie, what's your favorite color?” Lily asks Arcade, cornering him in a doorway. 

“Uhh… blue?” He says. “Why? Are you making something?” 

She puts her finger over her lips. “Ssh, it's a secret!” 

“O-okay…” He peeks into the Lucky 38’s rec room and spies Boone sitting amongst a pile of fabric and yarn, squinting down at an oblong piece in his hand. “Hey, are you making stockings?” 

Lily pushes him into the room and closes the door. “Yes, but it is a super secret! Boone is being a very helpful boy, maybe you can help too!” 

“You can sew, right Doc?” Boone asks. 

Arcade sighs. “Yes. Let's see, what are we working with?” 

In the end, the stockings turn out wonderful, though a bit mismatched. Lynn's is red with green trim, Raul’s is gray, Arcade’s is a light powder blue, and Boone’s is the plainest and most traditional, just a long red sock. Lily’s is the most extravagant, appliques and embroidery covering the entire surface. Even ED-E and Rex have small stockings, one with a rough picture of an eyebot, the other with a small dog patch that Arcade had found at Mick and Ralph's. 

The stockings are hung by the fireplace just before they pull out the decorations for the tree.

* * *

**Do you believe in Santa Claus?** \- Fallout 2

“Is that a courier over there?” Myron asks when they arrive at the gates of Chinatown. Carla frowns and cranes her head to see over the crowd of people gathered. 

“I can’t tell. Marcus, can you see?” 

The supermutant grunts. “I think so. Why, you got a letter to mail?” 

Myron nods, digging through his bag and pulling out a crumpled envelope. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” he opens it and pulls out a letter, unfolding it on the hood of the Highwayman and pulling out a broken pen. “Carla, I forgot to ask. Where we gonna be in a few weeks?” 

“Uh, probably back in the NCR or Broken Hills, why?” She silently reads over his shoulder: 

_ Dear Santa Claus,  _

_ I know I’ve been real shitty this year, but can you cut me some slack this time? I’m trying my best, okay? If you give me Brahmin shit again this year I’m going to be real mad.  _

Carla covers her mouth to hide a grin as she reads a summarized list of all of the “good” things that Myron has done this year, then follows with a long list of things he wants to receive for Christmas. 

_ Carla says we might be in the NCR or Broken Hills for Christmas. You can just find us. You’re magic or whatever. Speaking of which, Carla wants-  _

“What do you want me to tell Santa that you want?” Myron asks. “You’re such a goody two shoes, you’re on his nice list for sure.” 

“Uh, I don’t know?” Carla is caught off-guard by the question. 

“Maybe a set of skimpy red lace-” 

“I swear to God if you finish that sentence-”

“Fine, fine,” Myron waves a hand at her. “I’ll say you want somethin’ cool for your car. Marcus, you can get a new hat or something. I don’t even know if Santa comes to Super Mutants.” 

Carla is amazed at Marcus’ acting skills; he remains straight-faced and serious. “He does. I’m on his nice list.” 

Myron signs the letter and shoves it back in the envelope, writing ‘To: the North Pole’ on the front. 

“Here, let me ask the courier to take it,” Carla offers. “I’ll even pay,” she adds when Myron skeptically frowns at her. 

“Eh, whatever.” He says, giving her the envelope and leaning against the hood of the Highwayman. 

Carla is secretly grateful he gave in so easily.  _ He obviously still believes in Santa Claus for some reason, and I don’t want some random courier to accidentally ruin it for him. _

“Just take it,” she orders the very confused courier, pressing a few dollars into his hands. “Don’t say anything. You don’t have to actually deliver it anywhere, just take it with you and get rid of it.” 

As she walks back to the car, she mentally high-fives herself for having memorized the list of things Myron wanted for Christmas.  _ New shoes, huh? I think I can swing that one. The brand-new bomb-making chemistry set? Not so _ much.

* * *

**Decorating the tree -** Fallout: New Vegas

“No, ED-E, stay out,” Veronica grabs the little robot before he can float into the recreation room of the Lucky 38 Suite. He unhappily beeps. “You too, Rex. Out.” She leads them to the master bedroom and closes the door. 

“No, Boone, tinsel goes on first!” Lynn is heard shouting. “It’s just the way it’s  _ done _ !” 

Veronica re-enters the room to find the two of them arguing. Boone defends his position, stating that the lights need to to  _ behind  _ the tinsel. Raul sifts through boxes of ornaments and decorations, Arcade making comments over his shoulder. 

Finally, they agree on tinsel first, then lights, then finally ornaments. 

“Oh that one is so pretty, dear,  it should go right in front!” Lily says. For fear of breaking the fragile ornaments, she opted to supervise from her rocking chair. 

“Thanks, Grandma!” Lynn says, hooking the ornament on the plastic branch. “No, Arcade, you can't put two blue ones right next to each other, what are you doing?” 

“I'm decorating the damn tree!” He argues. “What does it matter if there are a few similar ones next to each other?” 

Veronica, hovering in the corner of the room out of reluctance to join the chaotic scene, edges towards the door. 

“I think I'm just going to go put up some mistletoe,” she whispers to Raul as the two erupt into a shouting match over Christmas ornaments. 


	2. prompts 6-10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6: Old-World movie marathon  
> 7: Black Friday  
> 8: Catch a cold from going outside without a coat  
> 9: Real tree or artificial?  
> 10: Caroling

**Old World Movie marathon** \- Fallout: New Vegas

“Ugh, why?” Arcade groans, hands over his ears. He can hardly be heard over the unholy screeching that fills the suite. 

On the screen of the small television in the Lucky 38’s entertainment room, a poorly animated Santa Claus figure cries out and covers his eyes. 

“Rudolph, that nose of yours is too bright! Agh!” 

“Same.” Veronica murmurs, wincing slightly as she gets up to turn the volume down. “Why’d we pick this movie out of all of the other ones?” She gestures to a stack of holovids. 

Lynn crosses her arms and sighs. “Boone said the cover looked interesting. But we might as well watch all of them. Maybe one of them is good.” 

“God, I hope so,” Arcade says, sighing heavily. “I really hope so.”

* * *

**Black Friday -** Fallout: New Vegas [Modern!AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11120898/chapters/24822219)

Raul yawns and rests his head on Arcade’s shoulder. “Why’d we have to come here so early?” he whines. 

Arcade sighs and checks his watch. It’s 7:00 in the morning. “The doorbusters, Raul. I have a coupon.” 

The line in front of them moves and he pushes their cart with one hand while stroking Raul’s hair with the other. “And we got  _ great  _ deals. A lightweight vacuum for Lynn and Veronica, a sewing machine for Julie, a crockpot for Boone.” He pushes the cart, which is filled to the brim with various boxes. “And those keurigs that I’m buying for Daisy and Henry were almost sold out, so it’s good that we got here early.” 

Raul just groans. The long line slowly moves, and they finally pay, Arcade pulling out a fistful of coupons that drastically reduces their bill. Then they have to haul everything to the car. Finally, they head to the mall, where they meet Veronica and Lynn for breakfast before splitting up to shop for each other. 

“So do you have any ideas for Arcade?” Veronica asks Raul after they’ve separated from the others. 

He shrugs. “Thought I’d just see somethin’ he might like.” 

“Same.” Veronica says, and steers them into a department store. “Lynn is  _ so  _ hard to buy for! Yeah, she has a ton of hobbies, but she’s already got everything for them.” 

“I feel like Arcade doesn’t have  _ enough  _ hobbies,” Raul complains. “He’s always just reading books.” 

Veronica sighs. “I bet Lynn knows  _ exactly  _ what she’s getting me. She’s smart like that.” 

 

“Arcade, I have  _ no idea  _ what I’m getting Veronica!” Lynn fiercely whispers. “Any ideas?” 

“What? No?” He responds. “She’s not  _ my  _ girlfriend.” 

Lynn sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “Well, what are you getting Raul? Let’s start there. Maybe I’ll come up with something on the way.” 

He pulls out a paper list from his pocket and half-hides it from her view. “He’s been talking about pursuing more creative crafts, I figured I could get him some supplies or something. Come on, there’s an art store over here.” 

 

“What about this?” Veronica asks. 

Raul frowns. “No. Too red. Arcade doesn’t like red.” Veronica rolls her eyes and puts the notebook down. “No, not that one either. He doesn’t like spiral-bound, and he says that the composition style binding annoys him…” Raul is struck with an idea. “Maybe I can make him a notebook!” 

“Really?” Veronica says. “What would you make?” 

“A nice leather cover, probably,” he says. “And I’ve already got all of the tools I need.” He thoughtfully nods. “I don’t even have to buy anything today for it. Have you come up with any ideas for Lynn?” 

Veronica sighs. “Maybe? She is always complaining about how cold we keep our apartment, so maybe a fuzzy robe and a pair of slippers?” She looks at the line for the registers and groans. “Ugh, the line is  _ so  _ long. But all of their pajamas are on  _ sale _ .” 

An hour later, they meet up at the food court, Raul and Veronica holding coffee cups. 

Arcade raises an eye at Raul’s lack of shopping bags. “You didn’t buy anything?”

He smiles. “Going the DIY route this year. Lynn, I see you’ve got the same idea?” She, too, isn’t holding anything, and nods when he asks. Arcade and Veronica both have reasonably sized bags. 

Arcade looks at his watch. It’s only 10 o’clock. “Time to go home and sleep, I guess. I don’t know about you, but I could use a nap.” 

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” Raul echoes. “Maybe we’ll watch reruns later. But for now, sleep. I’m  _ never  _ going Black Friday shopping ever again.” 

* * *

**Catch a cold from going outside without a coat -** Fallout 2 [If at first you don't succeed...AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11621802/chapters/26131452)

Carla shivers, wishing she had taken the time to scrounge through her storage to pull out a heavy coat. But she hadn’t yet had time to cut the left sleeves off of her winter clothing, so she either would have had to just deal with the extra fabric flapping around and inconveniencing her, or she would have had to search the whole house for a pair of scissors. 

As she runs around the perimeter of the village, she notes with satisfaction that they’d finished all of the adobe houses before winter had hit.  _ I know how an Arroyo winter can be in tents. I don’t think some of the Vault Dwellers would have made it.  _ This early on such a cold morning, only the village guards are there to wave at her as she passes. 

She follows her usual morning routine, pushing through the cold that seeps into her bones. She takes extra time to warm up before doing her usual exercises, hitting the battered punching bag until her body feels warm. 

As usual, Lenny comes to find her as the sun rises. He’s wearing a heavy flannel coat with the sleeves rolled up, and has a blanket in his arms. She nods at him. He smiles, but his happy expression fades into a concerned pout. Carla can tell that he wants to say something, so she gets a few cool-down strikes in before stretching, her Pip-Boy laying on the ground in front of her. 

She quirks an eyebrow at him then wipes away sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. 

“It-it’s real cold to be o-out here without a coat, C-Carla,” he says. “You’ll c-catch a cold.” 

“No coat,” she croaks, voice gravelly. She nods down at the rest of her left arm. Lenny nods in understanding.

These days, she doesn’t talk much. It’s easier to communicate with gestures or facial expressions, and she’s working on digging through the Vault archives they’d recovered in search of a sign language database. 

Lenny wraps the blanket around her shoulders and gently pushes her towards their house. She shivers. It  _ is  _ cold, a harsh wind whipping across her cheeks and bare feet. Their house is warm, a fire smoldering in the small fireplace. 

Of course, she starts sniffling and sneezing within a few hours, and Lenny raises an eyebrow and hands her a steaming cup of tea with a mildly stern look. He forces her to rest and recover for two whole days, but it’s not boring. He knows that she  _ hates  _ being sick. 

They cut the left sleeves off of all of Carla’s winter gear, fashioning all of the heavy pants with elastic, and throwing aside any clothing she couldn’t put on by herself. Then Lenny convinces her to read a book with him, then to go over the blueprints for a new guard tower. Goris, still wading through the Vault library they had delivered to Arroyo, finds her a book on knitting, and she spends hours practicing and experimenting until she can do it with one hand. 

In a few days, she’s completely recovered, and has a lumpy but passable scarf to wear. It’s a win-win scenario. 

* * *

**Real tree or artificial? (or aluminum?)** \- Fallout: New Vegas [1950's College AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/855276)

Arcade opens the door of the apartment he shares with the King, Julie, and Veronica, and hears Christmas music. He hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes. They had only moved in a few months ago, but the space already feels homely and warm.

In the living room, Julie and Veronica are poring over a glossy magazine, giggling and pointing at various pictures. Arcade walks into the kitchen and his boyfriend turns and kisses him, then hands him a mug of hot coffee. 

“Thanks. What are the girls gaggling over?” He asks. 

The King shrugs. “Got the sparklin’ new Sears catalog in the mail. They’ve been goin’ kookie for Christmas ever since, started puttin’ on tunes and talkin’ about gifts.” 

“What do you guys think about an aluminum tree?” Julie asks, coming into the kitchen and spreading the catalog on the table. She points at a selection of trees. Some are large artificial ones, other smaller aluminum trees.

“Personally,  _ I  _ still think we should go natural,” Veronica argues. “We can’t put lights on it, Julie!” 

Arcade crosses his arms. “I’m with Veronica. And those trees are so flashy. Maybe we could get a plastic one?” 

“But a natural tree would be too tall for our apartment,” the King argues. “Besides, we can always put a color wheel with the aluminum one.” His eyes shine. “It’ll be all sparkly and lit up.” 

Julie sighs. “I’m just excited to be able to put up something decently sized this year.” She looks around their living room. “This is much roomier than the dorms! Listen, how about we just go to the store and decide there. Besides, K is right. Unless they have a small plastic tree, we might have to go with aluminum.” 

Sears is packed with shoppers. The four of them have to hold hands in order not to get lost as they make their way past festive displays to the Christmas tree section. Music is blaring from the speakers, children yelling in excitement, and they have to lean close to each other and shout to be heard. 

They spend some time browsing the trees, arguing over plastic versus aluminum versus maybe going out and getting a real tree. 

Looking at the size of the plastic ones, Veronica says, “I guess I’ll be fine with a plastic one, these look awfully real.” 

“But we’d have to buy quite a lot of ornaments to make it look full,” Arcade muses. His eyes slide over to the aluminum trees. “Maybe an aluminum one  _ would  _ be better? We wouldn’t even have to get tinsel or lights.” 

The King grins. “Now you’re talkin’, sunshine. The six foot is only ten dollars. And take a peek at the color wheels, they’re eight bucks, not too shabby.” 

In the end, they decide to get the aluminum tree after a few minutes of arguing whether or not to get a rotating base too. They opt for just the tree and the color wheel, and pick up a cheap box of ornaments on their way to the registers. 

In the apartment, the tree shines and sparkles, the multicolored ornaments hanging from the delicate branches. The color wheel slowly spins, a kaleidoscope of light reflecting off the metal of the tree. On the record player, Elvis croons a song about not makin’ it home for Christmas Day. Julie and Veronica sway in the living room together cheek to cheek while Arcade and the King curl up on the couch, both cradling mugs of coffee and just enjoying the moment: a place where they can be themselves, a Christmas they can truly enjoy. 

* * *

**Caroling -** Fallout 2

“This is stupid,” Myron immediately complains. His nose is bright red, but his ears are protected from the cold by a fuzzy hat. “What if someone recognizes me?” 

Marcus grunts. “It’s the holiday season, have to spread joy.” He carefully unfolds a small paper pamphlet that Carla had made. They stand by the Highwayman, which is parked on Virgin Street in New Reno. Snow is softly falling, thanks to a cold front from the mountains. 

“Which one do you want to do first?” She asks. “K-9, do you have a preference?” 

The robot dog scowls. “No. K-9 does not appreciate this silly human ritual.” He nods up at Marcus. “And silly mutant ritual, I suppose. This unit does not want to participate and would greatly appreciate if-”

“So maybe we should start with ‘O Christmas Tree’,” Carla interrupts him, a clear message that K-9  _ will  _ be participating, whether he likes it or not. “It’s a classic, everyone loves it, it’s the easiest.” She unfolds her small book and quietly counts under her breath. 

It takes a minute for them to get the notes right, but eventually they sync up, and it actually sounds like the song. Myron has the highest voice, and Marcus the lowest. Carla is somewhere between a soprano and an alto, and K-9 gives up halfway through and starts howling. 

The citizens of New Reno stop and stare, but make no comment. Myron’s face is now completely red, and he keeps trying to hide in the collar of his jacket. When they get done with “O Christmas Tree’, some people applaud. Carla counts it as a victory that they weren’t immediately booed or shot. 

The first stop on their caroling tour is the Desperado casino. 

“No, Carla, somebody’ll recognize-” Myron quietly protests. 

“Is that little Myron?” Lil’ Jesus Mordino says, peeking his head out of the casino doors. “Come on over, kid, I haven’t seen ya in ages!” He puts an arm around Myron’s shoulders. “You’ve been doin’ real good work for us, kid. Glad to see you’re finally takin’ a break. Can’t have that brain o’ yours gettin’ too overdone.” He nods to Carla. “You folks doin’ some caroling? Sweet, show us what you got.” 

“Got any requests?” she asks, laughing at how embarrassed Myron looks.  _ He forgets that even though the Mordinos hired him, they still care about him a little. They don’t want anything happening to their boy genius.  _

Lil’ Jesus thinks. “Can you do the one that talks about little Jesus? He was sleeping in a manger or somethin’.” 

Carla flips through her book. “Oh yeah, ‘Away in a Manger’. We can do that. Come on now, give it a little enthusiasm!” 

Lil’ Jesus is enraptured by their song, and tries to give Carla money when they’re done. “Never thought I’d hear such good caroling from two humans, a super mutant, and a robot dog! Now move along and spread that cheer!” 

They stop by Salvatore’s bar and get some hot chocolate for free in exchange for regaling the patrons with a song. Then they go to the East Side, where entire Wright family gathers in their mansion, packing close to hear them sing and noisily joining a chaotic rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” 

Their last stop is the West Side of New Reno. Renesco peeks out the door of his pharmacy, Father Tully drunkenly sways to the music, and Carla can even see Eldridge leaning out the window of New Reno Arms to listen. 

“Silent night, holy night,” Carla sings. “All is-” 

A gunshot rings out down the street from a nearby alley.

“Hey!” Carla yells. “Shut up, it’s Christmas!” 

“...all is bright…” Marcus is still quietly singing, unsure if he should be continuing. K-9 softly hums at his feet. Myron nervously edges away from Carla. 

A few seconds later, another gunshot is heard. 

“Really?” Carla shouts. “Can you not hold off for like a minute while we finish? If you fire that gun again before we finish singing, Jesus won’t be the only one sleeping in heavenly peace tonight!” 

Thankfully, they are able to finish the song, and New Reno is able to have a Merry Little Christmas that year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #6: I recently re-watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and holy crap the NOISE is so BAD.  
> #7: I wrote this on Black Friday after shopping for HOURS. Arcade has too many coupons. He's too deep in the system.  
> #8: I learn a ton of stuff about upper amputees and sign language each time I write something for this AU. There are blogs dedicated to knitting with one hand, and how to adapt clothing for amputees so it's less annoying or easier to put on.  
> #9: Oh fuck I love vintage Christmas. We have three aluminum trees in my house (pics [here.](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/post/168354877194/to-go-with-my-fallout-holiday-prompts-day-9-here)) My mom loves vintage Christmas. Our whole house right now is all vintage. Aluminum trees are pretty rare, because they were only popular from 1958-1964. This takes place in 1960, the height of their popularity. Here's a catalog with [aluminum trees](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/88/4c/81/884c81c102a71afac33f56b2232e27dc.jpg) and [ornaments.](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8b/ba/5c/8bba5cbc55667e88b7182e73e8a12a01.jpg)  
> They spent $23 of 1960 money on the tree, color wheel, and box of ornaments, which is about $150 in today's money.  
> #10: Did you know that the majority of the most popular Christmas songs and carols come from before the 1960s? So in Fallout canon, all of the songs mentioned here would exist. Also, Marcus takes Christmas VERY seriously.
> 
> These have been super fun so far! I'm excited for the next stretch! (There's quite a bit of Fallout 2 in there, and another AU)


	3. prompts 11-15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11: Missing your family at the holidays  
> 12: Family traditions  
> 13: Christmas market  
> 14: A special sweater  
> 15: Mistletoe

**Missing your family at the holidays -** Fallout 2

Carla watches the moon move across the sky. It’s a cloudless and chilly night. She pulls her blanket closer around her shoulders and stands, walking the perimeter of their campsite.

Around the embers of a campfire, Lenny curls up in his sleeping bag. Marcus leans against the side of the Highwayman, Dogmeat on his lap. They’d left some members of their party back in New Reno. Carla was wary of the danger that the Sierra Army Base posed, and didn’t want her more fragile companions getting hurt.

Carla sits on a rock and looks at the fire, then at the sky. _It’s almost Christmas._ She sighs and stares at the decorations in the Highwayman. _I miss my family. I’m not going to make it up to Arroyo this year to celebrate with them. I can’t waste any time. They need the G.E.C.K., and they need it fast._

A gust of wind leaves her fingers cold; she rubs her hands together. _It wouldn’t be so cold at the village. Even when we have our evening celebrations, there’s always a roaring fire and warm food, and my aunt Sally knits me a sweater every year. And when the cold fronts blow through, me and my cousins form the biggest and warmest cuddle pile in my tent._

In his sleep, Marcus quietly snores, his disfigured mutant hand buried in Dogmeat’s fur. The sound is comforting in the silence. Carla stands up and walks in a slow circle. She stops and kneels by the fire, by Lenny. The ghoul is unnaturally warm and probably radiates more heat than the actual campfire.

 _Maybe they can be my family too,_ she muses. _Just for a little while. Just until things are okay again._

* * *

 **Family Traditions** \- Fallout: New Vegas

Lynn hears humming coming from the Lucky 38’s rec room, and curiously pokes her head in. After the Christmas stockings adventure that Arcade apparently experienced, she wants to be kept informed of any holiday projects in progress.

She finds Raul hunched over a table, a small paintbrush in his hand. A collection of small figurines sit on the table in front of him.

“Oh, hey, boss,” he says, looking up and putting down his paintbrush. “You need me for something? Any mob bosses to overthrow this joyful holiday season?”

She laughs. “No, I’m taking a break from my usual tyranny-bashing routine. What are you up to? What’s all this?”

He picks up the small figurine that he’d been working on. It’s the figure of a small baby. “The naciemento, boss. The uh, nativity scene.” He gestures to several other clay figures. There are even a few animals, camels and sheep. “I managed to keep a couple from my family. They’ve been passed down in the Tejada family for generations!”

“Oh, cool.” Lynn looks closer. The baby Jesus figure has a few cracks and spots where paint is missing. “This is the oldest thing I think I’ve ever laid eyes on. I mean, it’s probably at least 300 years old, right?”

He picks up the figurine and starts touching up the paint. “Nailed it in one, boss. They got a little dinged up after the apocalypse, though, so I’m just giving them a little TLC. They’ll be good as almost-new by Christmas Eve.”

She sits and watches him work, carefully adding painstaking details to the figures. He takes his time with each one, wrinkled and ghoulish hands turning them over and adding little dots of paint, occasionally blowing on them to remove dust.

“Hey,” Lynn suddenly straightens in alarm. “Do I smell something-”

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Arcade yells, and Lynn peeks her head out the rec room door to see him run into the kitchen. Curious and a little worried, she follows.

Smoke is rising from a small grill pan. Arcade hurriedly scrapes something off of it, flipping the burned food on a plate. He adjusts the heat and pours more oil into the pan, then takes a spoonful of raw material from a bowl, flattening it with his hands and plopping it into the sizzling pan.

“What are you making?” Lynn asks.

Arcade winces and pokes his burnt creation. “I’m _trying_ to make latkes. But _someone_ ,” he glares accusingly behind Lynn, where Rex is innocently sitting on the ground with his tail wagging, “thought that playtime was more important than cook-time, and I _may_ have forgotten about them.” He sheepishly rubs his neck.

“Latkes?” Lynn frowns, trying to remember if she knows what that is. The food in the pan smells like potatoes and spices, but that doesn’t help her. _Damn you, head injury-induced amnesia. I probably knew all of this before._

“For Hanukkah,” Arcade explains. “It starts tonight. My family always made lots of food for the first night.” He carefully flips the latke in the pan. “I already put the menorah up, didn’t you see it by the door?”

Sure enough, when Lynn looks in the hallway, a small table has been set up next to the elevator. A small silver object sits on it, barely bigger than her hand.

“It’s the original one my family had,” Arcade quietly adds. “The only thing we were able to take with us from Navarro. When my mom passed, Daisy said I should have it.” He trails off into silence.

Lynn clears her throat. “Can we celebrate with you tonight?”

“Of course,” he says, flipping the latke onto a fresh plate. “Sunset comes fast at this time of year, so we’ll start in an hour. As long as I don’t burn the suite down,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Lynn says, turning to leave him to his cooking. “I look forward to it.”

* * *

 **Christmas Market** \- Fallout 2

“Remember, no running off on your own,” Carla firmly says. “Use the buddy system. New Reno’s not that safe normally, but with this crowd, anything could happen. Now, Myron, don’t spend all of your money on drugs. You’re here to buy your Secret Santa gift, don’t forget that. We’ll meet up here in two hours, okay?”

With that said, they enter New Reno’s bustling Holiday Market. Stalls have been set up along the streets of the West Side, vendors selling gifts, specialty treats, and anything they think will sell.

A week ago, they had decided to do a Secret Santa gift exchange in lieu of having to buy every single person presents. This was done for two reasons: nobody had that much money, and the Highwayman didn’t have enough trunk space to effectively hold that many gifts.

After a few minutes of walking around, the group splits up. Carla and Lenny head in one direction, while Goris makes sure that Myron doesn’t walk off alone. Marcus seems torn between the two groups. One hand, he accidentally overheard Carla and Lenny talking about ideas for him, so one of them is his Secret Santa. On the other hand, he can’t go with the latter group because he drew Myron’s name.

But Marcus is a literal super mutant and therefore won’t be bothered, so he doesn’t feel worried separating from everyone else.

Even though it was frowned upon to share the identity of your gift recipient, Carla and Lenny had immediately broken that rule and shared with each other. They aimlessly browse the stalls together.

“Thought of any ideas yet?” Carla mutters.

Lenny sighs. “No. W-Why’d couldn’t we h-have gotten some-someone human?”

After taking a break from shopping to eat some mini mutfruit tarts and drinking some spicy hot chocolate, they get back to the hunt.

Lenny stops in front of a stall. Carla can see the gears turning in his head.

“I-Is this waterproof?” He asks the vendor, who nods and points out some other weather-resistant options. “I-I’m also looking for-for something smooth but d-durable. W-Would this work?” He walks away from the stall with a bag heavy with material, and a small pouch of tools.

Carla envies his creative thinking. Now she needs to find something for _her_ recipient. Before she can accomplish that, though, they run into Goris and Myron and switch partners.

“Thank fucking God,” Myron whispers when they walk away together. “I know you said not to tell who we got, but I got Lenny, and I have no _idea_ what to get him! But you two are close, so you know something, right?”

Carla sighs. _Everyone probably knows everyone else’s Secret Santa._ “I might. Let’s just look around. I still need to get my gift too.” _And an extra present, but Myron doesn’t need to know about that one._

They stop at a booth selling miscellaneous items and begin browsing. Carla digs through a stack of books and stationery and finds the _perfect_ gift. She quickly rifles through another pile and picks out something to go with it.

Myron has also found his gift, showing it to her and asking for her approval. She’s proud of his keen eyes and approves the idea, and they both walk away from the stall feeling accomplished. But before they meet back up with the group, Myron begs to duck into a stall selling souvenirs from Pre-War California.

“Just for a second, Carla, we’ve got time!” He whines. “Just wait here, I’ll be back in a fucking minute!”

She crosses her arms and waits outside. _What is he buying? He already got his gift. And why doesn’t he want me to come in with him?_ After a few minutes, he comes out of the stall, tucking a small package into his pocket. Carla narrows her eyes. _He doesn’t want me to see. We all agreed not to buy each other anything extra, he’d better not be breaking that rule by getting me something._

They meet up with the rest of their group and wearily trudge back to their hotel room, exhausted after a long evening of shopping. Before retiring to their room, however, they stash their purchases in the Highwayman, the outsides of each bag labelled with the owner’s name to avoid any accidental surprises.

Carla refrains from peeking at the others’ purchases, but can’t help notice that Goris doesn’t put anything in the car. _Maybe whatever he has is small enough to be carried around._ Marcus has a medium sized wrapped package, nothing about its size or shape giving any characteristics away. Carla blinks and almost misses Myron slipping something small to Goris from his pocket.

Early in the morning, Carla hears someone leave the hotel room. Ten minutes later, the door opens and Lenny slips in, softly closing the door behind him. Carla pretends to be asleep, but cracks her eyes open in curiosity. The ghoul doctor kneels at Goris’ side and takes something out of his pocket, slipping it into his claws.

“Thanks.” Goris rumbles, one golden eye sleepily opening. “From the Wrights?” Lenny hums in confirmation.

“I-I’ll stop by tomorrow and p-pick up Stuart Little’s. I-I told H-Harold to send his to Broken H-Hills. It should be there the next- the next time we pass through.” He looks over his shoulder and Carla quickly closes her eyes and evens her breathing. “Give m-me a coupla days on- on mine,” Lenny whispers.

Carla feels him lay back down next to her. _What are they talking about? Why did they talk to the Wright Family, Stuart Little, and Harold?_ She has the sneaking suspicion that it’s something about her. _Is Goris my Secret Santa? If so, why does everyone seem to be helping him in little ways?_ Lenny’s warmth is comforting and she pretends to wake up, rolling over and yawning. _I guess I’ll find out when I get my gift._

“Good mornin’, Len,” she mumbles. _For now, though, it’s time to get up and get going. I’m scheduled for a match at the Jungle Gym this afternoon, and Stuart will spend ten minutes yelling at me about practicing. I punch monsters for a living, do I really need to beat on a punching bag to practice?_

“Good morning, C-Carla,” Lenny says, brushing some hair from her face. “Bright and- bright and early!”

* * *

 **A special sweater -** Fallout 2 [If at first you don't succeed...AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621802/chapters/26131452)

“No, don’t come in!” Carla shrieks, too loud, judging by Goris’ wince. The deathclaw claps a claw over his eyes.

“Sorry, Carla. Is something wrong?” When he gets no response, he hesitantly peeks around a scaly finger and sees Carla with her head down, shoving something into a bag. He waits until she picks up her Pip-Boy to speak again, repeating his earlier statement.

She tries to nonchalantly shrug, still obviously hiding something. “A surprise.”

He grunts and turns to leave, making a note to slowly open doors next time as to avoid startling her. She remains suspiciously secretive over the next few days, having silent conversations with Lenny and staring for long periods of time at Goris when she thinks he’s not looking.

One day in late December, his questions are answered when she approaches him and hands him a wrapped box. It’s roughly but neatly done, with a bow and a tag that reads: ‘TO: GORIS, FROM: CARLA. Happy early Christmas.’

She runs her hand through her now shoulder-length hair while he carefully unwraps it. It’s a mass of tightly knitted yarn, and as he unfolds it, he realizes that it’s a sweater, dyed bright pink. _Carla must have spent weeks working on this_ , Goris thinks.

Minding his sharp claws, he slips the sweater over his head. It’s a little large, but she probably made it that way to be on the safe side.

“Thank you,” Goris says. “It’s wonderful.”

Carla grins. She’s quick to smile now, not like a couple of years ago, where she hesitated before slowly smiling, as if she was afraid to show her happiness.

“Took me a while,” she whispers. “Thanks for the knitting book.”

“Consider it _my_ early Christmas present.” Goris is really starting to appreciate the sweater’s warmth. All he wants to do is curl up in his nest and sleep for days swaddled in the warm (if a bit scratchy) fabric.

Actually, he might just do that. It’s not like he had anything planned for today.

* * *

 **Mistletoe -** Fallout: New Vegas [Flower Shop!AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954127/chapters/27028527)

The large cluster of bells hung over the door jangles. Veronica looks up from a book on Pre-War interior design.

“Excuse me,” Pacer asks. “Do you have mistl-”

“Here,” Veronica says, sighing and pulling out a sprig of mistletoe from a basket under her counter. Pacer dumps a generous handful of caps on the countertop before jauntily strolling out the door.

The holiday season is gearing up, and her workload has dramatically increased. The Tops casino is having a special performance and needs table arrangements, people buy her bouquets as thoughtful and relatively inexpensive gifts, and it seems like everyone in a twenty-mile radius wants mistletoe.

Thankfully, Veronica has a good supply. She had ventured a few days north to harvest the more traditional variety of mistletoe, lugging back baskets of the plant. She had a backup in case she ran out of that, though. A desert variety grew in the region, and only looked a little different than the glossy leaves that people imagined. She’d even sold some of her supply to eager caravans, giving her a solid stash of extra caps to put into her savings for the post-holiday slump.

The bells ring.

“E-Excuse me,” an NCR soldier with a First Recon beret says. Veronica recognizes him from months ago, and warmly smiles at him.

“Hey, pal, good to see you. What can I help you with?”

He pulls out a small wallet. “Just some-some m-mistletoe, Ma’am. Five, p-please.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Sure thing. Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says. “W-We wanted to get every-everyone at the base in the- the Christmas mood.” As he walks out the door, she can see a group of other First Recon soldiers waiting for him.

During a long lull in activity, Veronica hangs out outside the door to her shop, leaning against a wall and watching the Kings throw snowballs at each other.

“No really, I have to get back to work,” Arcade Gannon protests, coming out the door from the School of Impersonation.

“Come on, sunshine, can't you just play hooky for a day?” the King wheedles, following him out the door.

“No, I-” Whatever excuse Arcade was going to say is cut off as the King passionately pulls him down and kisses him. All of the Kings whistle and applaud. “Hey, what was that for-”

“Mistletoe, darlin’,” the King says, pointing up at the doorway and giggling at his boyfriend's red face. He looks over and sees Veronica watching, giving her a thumbs up.

Arcade rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I have to go now, but I’ll stop by later.”

Veronica spends the rest of the day selling small bouquets and preparing special orders for the casinos for their holiday parties. Just before dinner, her bell rings.

“Hey,” Lynn says, poking her head in the door. “Want to join me for dinner at the Wrangler?”

“Sure thing,” Veronica replies, putting away her supplies and brushing her hands on her apron. Lynn stops her with a hand on her arm, leaning in close.

She points up at the doorway, where a bundle of mistletoe hangs. Veronica had completely forgotten that she had put it up a few days ago.

“Merry Christmas,” Lynn whispers, and leans down to kiss her. Veronica hums into the kiss, standing on her tiptoes. Down the street, someone starts warbling a Christmas carol. The shop smells green and sharp, evergreen boughs strewn across countertops and needles scattered on the floor. The moment feels frozen and clear, just the two of them together under a doorway, kissing like tomorrow would never come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11: this was a sad one amidst all of the fluff, wasn't it?  
> 12: originally just supposed to be about Raul, but then I realized that coincidentally, this prompt would go up the day that Hanukkah started. Idk where the Jewish Arcade headcanon started, but I like it and ran with it. Not personally Jewish or Mexican, so there was a little bit of fun research involved here. One of my surprise favorites to write.  
> 13: Christmas markets aren't a thing here in the U.S., but I went to a few in France, and LOVED them! I wanted to keep everyone's gifts and Secret Santa identities vague for this one, to be able to surprise you with SOMETHING on Christmas Eve!  
> 14: This was originally supposed to just be normal Fallout 2, but after writing the other AU one where I mentioned knitting, I realized that it would be a perfect sequel. One-handed knitting is really cool, folks.  
> 15: Again, originally not supposed to be AU, but then the idea came and hit me in the head, because OF COURSE it should be my maybe-soon-updated (don't hold your breath, but it's got a few paragraphs going) Flower Shop AU. There is in fact a desert variety of mistletoe that grows in the Vegas region, but it doesn't look quite like traditional mistletoe.


	4. prompts 16-20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16\. Vacation at Jacobstown  
> 17\. Snow deathclaw  
> 18\. Making paper snowflakes  
> 19\. I want SCIENCE for Christmas!  
> 20\. Homemade gifts

**Vacation at Jacobstown -** Fallout: New Vegas

Arcade sighs. Doctor Henry sighs. In the corner, Calamity raises her eyebrows and hides a smile. 

Lynn is starting to get sick of their disappointment and exasperation. Her arm hurts, and all she wants someone to do is bandage it and maybe give her a Stimpack or two. “How was I supposed to see that tree coming?” 

Arcade motions for her to sit in one of the lodge’s armchairs. “I don’t know, Lynn, I just expected you to be able to sled down a reasonably steep hill without injuring yourself.You’ve fought deathclaws, Lynn. How is this harder?” He cleans the gash on her arm and starts wrapping the wound. She just ignores him and pouts. 

Their three day-long visit to Jacobstown was prompted by Lily, who mentioned that she needed to see Doctor Henry to get her meds adjusted. The rest of their group had joined in the trip, eager to spend part of the holiday season in a snowy place. They had relaxed the first day, tired after such a long trip. They were currently spending the second day sledding, skiing, and doing other fun winter activities. 

Of course, it was all fun and games until Lynn crashed into a tree and fell off her sled, cutting herself on a pile of rocks. Arcade finishes bandaging her arm and pats her on the shoulder. 

Someone clears their throat in the doorway. “Got a second, Doc?” Marcus asks, sheepishly holding his shoulder. The supermutant limps into the room, and Doctor Henry guides him to sit down on a table. 

“What happened?” 

“Snowball fight.” Marcus replies. Doctor Henry just sighs. 

“Dislocated shoulder, sprained ankle,” he mumbles, then looks over at Arcade and Lynn. “Would you two mind going out there and stopping these shenanigans before anyone  _ else  _ gets injured?” 

Lynn puts her jacket back on and heads for the door.  _ I don’t want to be here when his shoulder gets put back in place anyways.  _ “Good idea. Let’s invite everyone in for hot chocolate.” 

* * *

**Snow Deathclaw -** Fallout 2

“How did that song go?” Carla asks, patting snow with her gloved hands. 

“W-which song?” 

Carla gives him a look. “The snowman one, Len. Freezy or whatever his name was.” 

Lenny carefully picks up the snowball he’s painstakingly rolled. He sets it on top of the one that Carla has just finished. “Frosty the S-Snowman?” She nods. “He h-had a corncob pipe and a-a button nose, and two e-eyes made out of coal.”

“And a hat too, right?” Carla asks, making sure the snowman’s head is sitting correctly. “I like that song. I think I might have some things to make our snowman a real Frosty.”

A few feet away, a very different creation is taking shape. 

“No, foolish human, a bigger arm!” K-9 critiques. A robot dog-proportioned sweater covers his body.

“Even Skynet can see that that piece needs to be more elevated. Do you not have eyes, human?” 

Poor Myron grits his teeth at his robot companions’ criticisms. “I hear ya! Just shut the fuck up for a few minutes, okay? Unless  _ you  _ want to jump in and help me? Oh right, I forgot, you guys don’t have arms. Except for you, Skynet, and yours are too short to do anything.” 

The two robots grumble but remain silent while Myron works. Finally, he steps back and admires his work. A snow deathclaw stands, icy claws looking almost realistic. 

Carla and Lenny’s more  _ traditional  _ snowman turned out wonderfully. A battered pre-war hat sits on top, a screwdriver sticking out of its mouth in a rough approximation of a pipe. Two shotgun shells serve as eyes, a smaller bullet casing in the place of a nose. 

* * *

**Making Paper Snowflakes -** Fallout: New Vegas

“Hey,” Lynn calls out from a few feet back. Ulysses turns at her approach, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Courier,” he says. “Odd time for a visit.” 

She shrugs and sits down, setting down her backpack on her other side. “It’s the holiday season. Thought you might want some company.” 

“No need to-” 

Lynn waves away his protests. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you anything special. I just thought you might want some company. Also, we can make paper snowflakes. Stress relief.” She pulls out a stack of scrap paper, old posters advertising long-forgotten products. Two pairs of scissors go on the rock of the cliff between them. 

Ulysses spends a minute just gazing out at the Divide before turning and wordlessly picking up a piece of paper and a pair of scissors. Lynn smiles and does the same. 

They fold and cut and completely eviscerate the paper in silence. Lynn is haphazard and cuts without pattern, while Ulysses makes snowflakes that would make an architect cry. They’re well-folded and well-cut, and the delicate patterns are all symmetrical. 

“You can just do things without thinking,” Ulysses says, breaking the silence. “No worries; I envy you.” 

She doesn’t know how to respond; she seldom does when it comes to Ulysses. She just nods and continues cutting. 

A few minutes later, he taps her arm and shows her a snowflake he made. She bursts into surprised laughter. 

‘FUCK NCR’ is carefully cut out of the paper. 

“How- how did you  _ even _ -” Lynn asks, breaking down giggling. Ulysses joins in her laughter, his chuckles rolling and echoing across the open space. He throws the snowflake off the cliff and down into the wreckage below. 

On a whim, Lynn takes a handful of her snowflakes and throws them down, all at once. From down below, it must almost look like real snow. Ulysses tosses his to the wind one by one, and they just sit on the edge of the ruined wasteland and watch the snow fall. 

* * *

**I want SCIENCE for Christmas! -** Fallout: New Vegas

As soon as her feet land on the balcony of the Sink, Lynn notices the lights. Strings of brightly colored lights are strung all along the railing. She goes inside, eager to get out of the cold air of the balcony. 

“Lynn! Lynn!” Muggy screeches when he sees her. The Jukebox is playing cheerful jazz music, and various wreaths and decorations clutter the walls. “Do you have any mugs for me? Please, of please say yes!” 

“Of course I do!” She says, taking a few coffee cups from her heavy bag and handing them down to the small robot. “When did you guys decorate? It looks nice in here.” 

Light Switch #2 chimes in with an answer. “Just a few days ago, darling. The Central Intelligence Unit is programmed to begin holiday preparations a couple of weeks before the celebrations.” 

Lynn notices that the lights of the room are a soft green. Light Switch #1 adds, “of course, we all joined in and helped. That  _ salacious  _ Biological Research Station even scrounged up some poinsettias!” 

“The whole idea of Christmas is sedition and Red propaganda!” The Book Chute shrieks when she walks by. “How dare citizens believe in a higher power, this so-called ‘Santa Claus’ to aid them! The only one they should worship is the government…” Used to his passionate rants, Lynn ignores the machine. She’s learned to tune him out. 

The Think Tank is much quieter than the Sink. Of course, that’s because nobody is there anymore. Lynn hovers in the doorway and stares at the empty space. Then she can no longer ignore the guilt rising up in her throat, and turns away. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers.

Mobius’ lab in the Forbidden Zone is much more lively. When she approaches the doors, she hears him singing. At first, she mistakes the song for a  _ normal  _ carol, then kicks herself when she realizes that all of the lyrics are about science and brains.  _ I don’t know what I expected.  _ A small roboscorpion skitters past, sporting a red and white Santa hat. 

“Merry Chryslus!” Mobius says, his one functioning eye monitor tilting to look at her. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too,” Lynn says, pulling a small package from her bag. “How have your experiments been going, Doctor Mobius? Did you make any progress on the Nightstalker antivenom yet?”

Mobus drifts over to her. “No, unfortunately my dear friend Borous really got clever with those little varmints. But you didn't come all the way to see your good pal Mobius just to discuss work, did you?” 

“No,” Lynn admits. “I got you something for Christmas.”  _ I'm not sure how much he remembers about Christmas, but it's the thought that counts.  _ She sets down a small box. 

Mobius perks up. “Oh, how delightful! What a quaint tradition! Coincidentally, of course, I have something for you too!” 

Lynn inwardly winces.  _ Coming from him, that could be anything.  _ But she dutifully accepts the lumpy package he floats into her hands. 

They simultaneously open their presents. 

“Oh, I love it!” Mobius exclaims. Lynn had found old pictures of the Think Tank in their human forms. She had combined them together in a frame labelled ‘My Friends.’ 

At first, Lynn can't tell what her present is. She unfolds a heavy mass of woolen fabric in a dusty faded pink. Embroidered on the front is a large atomic symbol with the words ‘BIG MT’ underneath. 

“It used to be mine, I think,” Mobius explains. “Or maybe it was Klein's?” He hums. “Actually, Dala was over my house often, and it  _ is  _ her favorite color. But I feel like Dr. O always accused her of stealing it from him? And it has dog hair on the sleeve, so we can't rule out the possibility of Borous. Ah, who knows. We all lived basically in the same room for months, years, at a time.” 

Lynn pulls the sweater over her head. It's soft in the way that only pre-war clothing could be. The elbows are thin and worn. She catches a glimpse of the photos that she had given Mobius, and leans in close with a smile. 

“Look,” she says, pointing down at the pictures. “Dr. 8 is wearing it.” Indeed, the short doctor is bundled in the sweater in the picture.

Mobius laughs. “So he is, so he is. Say, Lynn, won't you stay for some hot cocoa?” Against her protests, he whines and wheedles, finally convincing her to stay for just an hour. They curl up before a fireplace, a relic of a life that the scientist no longer leads, and trade stories and tales until the hot cocoa in her hands grows cold. 

* * *

**Homemade gifts -** Fallout: New Vegas

Christine picks up a signal on her radio:

“Christine, this is Lynn. I’ll meet you at the fountain.” 

She scampers across rooftops, the Ghost People watching her with curious glowing eyes. Lynn is sitting on the edge of the fountain, the ghostly holographic woman eerily smiling behind her. Lynn warmly greets her with a hug, and they quickly move to a safe location. 

“How have things been going here?” Lynn asks. Christine guesses that she’s stalling for time, nervous about something. “Any visitors?” 

“None in the last few weeks,” Christine responds. “Why did you come all of the way out here, Lynn? It wasn’t just to catch up.” 

Lynn hesitates, then shakes her head. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small box, pressing it into Christine’s hands. “This...this is from a friend. An early Christmas present, if you will. Go ahead, open it.” 

Inside the box is a small note. Christine unfolds it and tears spring to her eyes. She immediately recognizes the handwriting, scrawly and barely-readable. She shoves the note in Lynn’s hands and Lynn, remembering Christine’s dyslexia, reads it aloud:

_ Dear Christine,  _

_ I almost didn’t believe Lynn when she said that she’d found you, and that you still remember me.  _ ~~_ I still love you _ ~~ _ You still hold a part of my heart. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. Lynn said that you are safe, at least. I thought you might want something to remember  _ ~~_ me  _ ~~ _ us by. _

_ Your eternal friend, _

_ Veronica _ . 

With shaking hands, Christine unfolds a layer of tissue paper. She picks up a thick bracelet made of multicolored threads knotted together. The friendship bracelet that they’d made together, years ago, back in the Brotherhood bunker. Underneath it is a circle of flattened metal with letters stamped in it. 

“It just says your name,” Lynn says. “She made it for you.” 

Christine stares at the gifts, then slips them onto her left wrist.  _ What was that saying? Something old, something new.  _ The bracelets are comfortable and light, the metal of the homemade one is slightly dulled so as not to attract attention. 

“Tell her thank you,” Christine says, finally breaking her silence. She clears her throat. “Tell her ‘Merry Christmas’.”

Lynn reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16: It doesn't really snow in Vegas in the winter, so I thought they should have some fun in some actually snowy regions. Thus, Jacobsbtown.   
> 17: My only Fallout 2 one this chunk! I don't know how that happened, but the idea of a snow deathclaw seemed perfect for Fallout 2. IDK why Goris wasn't in this one, though.   
> 18: I know that Ulysses probably doesn't just hang out on the side of a cliff 24/7, but I thought that the image of the paper snowflakes floating down into the Divide was cool.   
> 19: Halfway through writing, I remembered that Lynn killed the Think Tank, and this quickly became both shorter and more mildly sad. I still have Mobius, though. How does he wrap presents? I don't know.  
> 20: Everyone's favorite never-in-canon-reunited couple!
> 
> I can't believe we're almost done! I also can't believe that I've actually stuck to my posting schedule!

**Author's Note:**

> Find the full prompt list [here.](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/post/168021339164/the-25-days-of-fallout-fic-prompts) Fics go up every day on my [Tumblr,](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/tagged/falloutxmas17) and go up in chunks of five here.


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